


I Do Not Know

by SongPainter (OliverFans)



Series: Twenty One Pilots - Songs Painted With Words [14]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: I was on a train when I wrote this, Inspired by Music, Meta Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliverFans/pseuds/SongPainter
Summary: This is my metapoetry inspired by the Twenty One Pilots song Migraine, from the album Vessel.





	

Daylight screams and pulls at his eyelids  
He refuses and clamps them shut  
His hand joins in and covering them gently

Too bright  
Too much  
Too strong

Standing shielded  
It's quiet now

Until his head starts up  
Clattering  
Splattering  
Swirling  
Twirling  
He falls into a loop  
And sinks down into its plughole  
With nothing to grip onto on the way down  
Hands clawing at nothing but noise

In the darkness he is sloshed from side to side  
Down  
Down  
He is flipped and turned and direction is lost  
He chokes on the liquid It gets in his eyes  
He fights still, scrambling  
Down  
Down  
He can't see in the dark  
Too overwhelmed to make silent prayers  
A cry from deep within him is squeezed out  
Strangulated and foreign  
His skin crawls at the sensation of being driven by forces outside him

With a splash and a thud he hits bottom. A pool of black liquid, itching and stinging his skin.

He scrambles to climb walls, his fingers becoming raw along with his voice rendered hoarse

He does not know

He does not know

"I do not know!" he shouts. As if it matters. Only it does. More than he realises.

The darkness folds up into itself with a loud fluttering noise, and now all he sees is a beige space, with nothing on it, as far as he can see.

He doesn't know where he is or what this is but is mildly amused to realise that this nothingness is barely better than the fetidness he was in before.

He sees purple dust coming from his hands at the same time he wishes there were trees here.  
Trees appear and his palms vibrate and zap.  
He gasps.

He silently wishes for more trees.  
More trees appear.

He gets excited now and grins as he paints a starry sky of purple and a ground carpetted with yellow flowers, as well as a thick forest of trees.

He looks up to a bright moon.  
So bright and big and so strong.  
He gazes at it lovingly, laying down on the bed of flowers.  
The trees look on with a smile.


End file.
